


Mountain roads

by Builder



Series: Canon ships and all that jazz [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And everyone pays the price, Carsick, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Sickfic, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 04:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: Being the only "regular guy" on the team gives Clint a bit of a complex.  The kind that makes him want to read the map from the backseat just to prove he can.Problem is, he can't.





	Mountain roads

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt from tumblr. Find me @builder051.
> 
> My sincere apologies for a lot of cursing and religious epithets... It was just free flowing.

“God, how much longer?” Clint complains, leaning forward to pop his head between the front seats.  “And why did you have to pick a picnic spot so far away?”  He rests his elbows on the center console.  “Why are we even going on a picnic?”

Tony takes his eyes off the road to give him a smirk.  “It’s Memorial day,” he says, a note of  _duh_ in his voice.  “That’s, like, national go-on-a-picnic-with-your-family day.”

Nat stifles a snort of laughter, but doesn’t say anything.  She knows a snarky comeback is on its way.

“Yeah, well.”  Clint flops back and crosses his arms.  He shoots Nat a glare, then fixes his eyes on Tony in the rear-view mirror.  “My family’s in a cabin on Lake Michigan with Laura’s parents.  I thought when you called you wanted me for a mission.  Or at least something important.”

“You know what I mean,” Tony says, turning down a narrow road that snakes ahead of them into the foothills.  “This  _is_  important.  This is team-building.  I’m not gonna say we’re a family, but, eh, we’re pretty close.”

“Oh, you better be glad we’re not family,” Clint mumbles.  “Or I’d have already pounded you.”  He looks out the window.  “We’re lost, aren’t we?”

“We definitely aren’t lost,” Bruce says from the front passenger seat.  He has the map unfolded on his lap, and it crinkles as he pokes it with his finger.  “We’re right here, right?  On this road?”

Tony glances at him, then quickly back to the road as the car bumps over a pothole.  “Hey, I’m driving.  I can’t look at that for you.”

“Jesus Christ.  We’re lost.”  Clint shakes his head.  “You’re a goddamn PhD and you can’t read a map.  Give it here.”  He reaches around Bruce and tries to snatch it away.

“Let me just put it out there that he’s probably incompetent  _because_  he’s a PhD,” Tony says.  “I have a master’s degree, and I’m perfectly capable.  I just happen to be driving.”

“Hey, cut it out,” Bruce protests.  “And I have…three PhDs, actually…”  He squints down at the map, trying to salvage his pride.

“Well, triply incompetent, then,” Clint chuckles.  “Come on.  Give it here.”  He holds his hand out expectantly.

“You really should,” Tony says.

“God, ok, fine,” Bruce huffs, shoving the map into the backseat.

Clint spreads it over his knees and scans it for the right quadrant of mountainous upstate New York.

Nat leans over to help.  “Hey, I don’t need you in on this too.  I got it.”  Clint elbows her back into her seat.

“Clint.”  She cocks her head.  “You sure this is a good idea?”  She gives the map a meaningful look.

“Yes, geez, Nat.  I have it under control,” Clint snaps.  “Is everybody done telling me what to do?”  He looks around to the other passengers, then drops his gaze again.  “Now, what highway did you just get off of?”

Tony hesitates.  “Am I allowed to tell you, or is that too bossy?”

“Don’t start with me, Stark…”  Clint clenches his jaw and traces the line of the interstate from the bottom edge of the map practically up into Canada.

“Take a deep breath,” Nat whispers.  “No use getting worked up.”

“I’m fine,” Clint insists.  “Christ…”  But he sighs out a gust of air that ruffles the sheet in his lap.

“Guess I’ll leave you to it.”  Nat rests her elbow below the window and leans away from Clint.

They manage 15 minutes of tense silence.  Tony passes a sign for a rest stop.  “Anybody need to stop?” he asks, looking at his passengers in the rearview mirror.  “A coke?  A bathroom break?”  He narrows his eyes at Clint.  “Ask for directions?”

Clint isn’t even looking at the map anymore.  “I’m fine,” he says, his voice low and his jaw set.

“Hey, chill out.”  Tony lets go of the steering wheel for a second to put up his hands.  “Don’t get angry.  Cause then everybody’s gonna get angry, and I can’t handle that.”

He looks at Bruce, who cuts in with a “Hey!”

“Not angry,” Clint murmurs.  He leans his head back against the headrest and looks past Nat at the trees flashing past the window.  “…’m fine.”

Nat gives him a once-over and raises her eyebrows.

Clint shrugs and looks away.  He glances back down at the map, but quickly gives his head a small shake and fixes his gaze out the window again, this time with his head turned away.  But Nat still sees his throat working as he swallows hard.

“Ok, last chance,” Tony announces as the rest stop comes into view around the bend.  “Hey, birdbrain, what turn do I take after this?”

“Uh…”  Clint starts and squints at the map, searching down their stretch of barely-marked mountain road.  He drags his sleeve over his clammy forehead and swallows convulsively again.

“You know, I do really need a coke,” Nat says suddenly.

Tony slams on the brakes.  “You should’ve said something, like, at least 30 seconds ago.”  He pulls a sharp turn into the rest stop’s parking lot.

Nat worriedly flicks her eyes back to Clint.  His shoulders hunch with a subtle jerk forward that could be the result of a hiccup or something worse.

“Sorry,” she says, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door.  “I only had one cup of coffee this morning.  And it’s hot in here.”  Nat climbs out and digs in her pocket for change.  “Want to take a walk, Barton?”

“…I guess…” Clint murmurs quietly.  He sounds less than enthusiastic, but he follows Nat out of the car at lightning speed.

“I think I saw some coke machines over here…”  Nat leads the way around the far side of the building, out of view of the parking lot.  There’s nothing over there but picnic tables, but Clint’s not about to call her out on the lie.  They’re barely out of view of the car when he doubles over and gags harshly, one hand braced on his knee and the other on his stomach.

“Ok,” Nat whispers, patting him on the back.  There’s a trash can maybe ten yards away, but Clint doesn’t look like he’s moving another inch. “Just get it out.”

Clint doesn’t need telling twice.  He heaves again, and a rush of coffee and undigested breakfast hits the grass, flecks splashing onto his shoes.  He hiccups as he catches his breath and holds the back of his hand to his mouth, but he can’t keep down the gag.  He throws up again, and Nat makes a sympathetic sound.

“God.  Sorry,” Clint chokes when he can finally breathe.

“No, it’s ok,” Nat says.  “I, well, I kind of figured…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint hiccups.  “I don’t wanna know.”

“You could’ve said something.”  Nat shifts her change purse to her other hand and pulls a tissue from her pocket.  “Or, you know, maybe been a little less stubborn.”

“Didn’t you hear Stark and…and Banner going on?”  Clint pauses to swallow and take a breath.  “I have to hold my ground against them.”  He accepts the Kleenex and wipes at his mouth and nose.

“Clint…”  Nat shakes her head and claps him on the shoulder.  “No, you don’t.”

Clint sighs.  “What am I even doing?  Jesus Christ, what a way to spend a holiday weekend…”  He spits out residual mucous and bile, then chuckles darkly.  “I don’t even want to go on a fucking picnic…”

Nat puts on a brave face.  “It’s gonna be ok,” she says.  She takes a step away from the splatter of sick on the ground, and Clint hesitantly follows suit.  “If I buy you a soda, will you let me read the map the rest of the way?”

“Yes.  God, Nat, you don’t even have to bribe me.”

“Good,” Nat says with a grin.  “But tone down the enthusiasm.  It’ll ruin your reputation.”


End file.
